The company members danced through the next verse and chorus, and if I do say so myself, we Liberty dancers rocked it. This felt totally different from performing onstage in a theater. We didn’t have a captive audience politely watching whatever happened when the curtain opened. We had to use our movement to demand this audience’s attention. I let go of the worries of the last few weeks and let the moves fly through me, my body shouting how much Liberty meant to me.
By the time we came to the bridge of the song, people had gotten up from their folding chairs and formed a sizeable crowd around the court, cell phones held up to video us.
For the instrumental interlude, the junior dancers backed away and let the seniors really show off. If anyone has ever said dancers aren’t athletic, they haven’t seen how these girls flip and leap across the pavement. I could only hope I would literally reach those heights when I got older.
The juniors joined back in for a chunk of unison, high-energy movement, and then it was just about time for the full group to join in. The voices dropped out and the music shifted key, building for a few measures while everyone else rushed onto the court.
With the start of the chorus, the singers came back in full force and forty bodies jumped in time along with them. Except—except there were definitely more than forty people on the court.
We spun around and behind me was the dad and two kids from the day of the rally, the ones I had decided not to bother with the petitions. They hadn’t been at the church rehearsal but they were doing the steps. On my other side, there was a woman I recognized from Mr. Harmon’s art class, and in front of me, a mom was dancing while holding one of the Tiny Tots. They must have found the video and learned the moves on their own. I actually got a little choked up—this community adored Liberty and was willing to do anything to keep us around.
And then I saw Teagan attempting the running man and couldn’t help but laugh. All my friends putting themselves out there to keep the Liberty family together—I took all that unstoppable energy and funneled it into the last few lines of the song.
You can’t stop the beat! We jumped and pumped our fists in the air.
You can’t stop the beat! We spun in circles, the park whizzing by.
You can’t stop the … We crouched down low, slowly rose up, and then I shouted the moves of our final step in my head while my body shouted them out loud: right, left, cross-your-feet, spin-to-unwind, and …
STOMP! We hit the pose in unison, more than one hundred hands in the air.
The audience burst into the loudest applause I’d ever heard. I closed my eyes for just a second, soaking it all in.
Now that we had their attention, Isaiah ran up to me with the microphone like we’d practiced.
“My name is G-G-Gabriela McBride and we are here today to t-talk about—no, I mean t-t-to celebrate—Liberty Arts Center.” My speech was bumpy, but I went on. We had this crowd’s attention. Now was our chance. “D-D-Did you like our dance?” I called out.
The crowd erupted in whoops and hollers, the other dancers behind me joining in, too.
“Well, Liberty Arts Center taught most of us everything we know. It’s an awesome place, and it means a l-l-lot to the community. B-But a month ago, the power went out and now Liberty is in danger of being shhhhut down forever if we can’t raise mmmmoney for repairs. Is that fair?”
“No!” the crowd shouted.
“So will you help?”
“Yes!”
Suddenly, Red was beside me, reaching for the mic. It was his turn to shout the best way he knew how.
“At Liberty, we dance,
Paint,
Rhyme,
Dream
The door is open to all voices
To those who twirl, and those who write verses
You’re free to be
Who you want to be
All we ask? Creativity
Liberty beats like a heart inside us all
Let’s hold it up, now don’t let it fall
I’m tellin’ you
Liberty is worth the fight
Let’s bring it out from darkness
back into the light.”
The crowd burst into cheers and applause again. Some people even stomped their feet. The music started up again for a reprise of the final chorus as we’d planned. My heart pounded like a million tap shoes hitting the floor and in that moment, I wished Mama were there. You can’t stop my beat, but Mama’s beat is even stronger, and Liberty’s is strong only because of Mama’s passion for it. For us.
We approached the final line of the song again, but this time, some of us dancers positioned ourselves in the middle of the court. Right before the last note hit, everyone else crouched down and we did our most explosive move yet: full backflips together, landing just in time for the rest of the group to pop up and hit our final pose.
The crowd went crazy.
We held our pose for a few seconds, and then there was a second wave of cheering as we dancers jumped up and down and gave one another hugs.
I had paused for a moment to catch my breath when someone picked me up from behind and spun me around. Amelia.
“That was amazing, Gabby!” she said, putting me down. “It was—I have no other words. Just amazing.”
I beamed.
Teagan, Bria, and Isaiah didn’t waste any time. They ran into the crowd and handed out Dream Together cards, and some other kids walked through the crowd with hats held out for donations.
Amelia and I started to make our way back to the blanket, saying thank you as park-goers congratulated us on the performance.
“Excuse me, miss?” Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned around to see a man holding a microphone and another with a video camera perched on his shoulder.
“Cameron Fischer, CBS News,” the man with the microphone said, holding out his hand for me to shake. “We received a tip this morning about your performance from a very enthusiastic young man.”
So that’s who Red was talking to on the phone this morning! I made eye contact with Red in the crowd and pointed to the camera guy. Red just shrugged and smiled, then started to make his way over.
“We were impressed with your performance,” Cameron Fischer said. “Would you like to say a few words about Liberty’s plight and why it compelled you to do what you did? This would be for tonight’s evening news.”
Me, Gabriela McBride, speaking on television. It would have been impossible a few weeks ago. I looked at Amelia. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t impossible now.
“Go ahead,” she said, giving me a big smile. “I’ll be right here.”
“O-Okay,” I said to Cameron. “I … I … I can talk about Liberty.” Over his shoulder, I saw Red and Teagan approaching us. “Can my f-f-friends be on camera, t-too? I couldn’t have done it without them.”
“Sure,” Cameron said, then turned to the cameraman. “Tiger, are you ready?” Teagan and Red jumped in on either side of me, and Teagan and I shared a quick Are-You-For-Real?! look. She found my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back.
“And we’re on,” Cameron said. “Good evening. We are here tonight with the girls and boys of the local Liberty Arts Center.” Cameron described the historic building and “Liberty’s plight.” He gave a brief recap of the flash mob, then held the mic out to me. “What would you like to tell our viewers about Liberty?”
“I—” So many words were zipping around inside me. How dancing at Liberty had allowed me to forget my bumpy speech and just be me. How hard Mama worked to make the arts accessible to the community. And how none of those words seemed to want to come out at this moment.
“I—” In the distance behind Tiger’s camera, Isaiah was talking to an older gentleman. They were both laughing and gesturing wildly. Suddenly, I realized the old guy was Mr. Blake. Shakespeare, uniting generations.
“Gabby?” Teagan whispered.
I turned my attention back to Cameron. “I—We … we came here today because we wanted
to show the community that Liberty is more than a beautiful historic building. Everyone—n-n-no matter who they are—can explore their creativity in our dance and art classes.
“But the r-r-really beautiful thing, the real work of art that Liberty creates, is the sense of community between our members. Kids fffinding mentors in older members. People having a safe space to be who they are and get support. We don’t even really need a roof over our heads to make that happen—”
Red elbowed me.
“I … I mean, we’d definitely like to get back into the Liberty building.” Cameron laughed. “The building houses our programs, which are great. B-B-But what I mean is …” I looked over Cameron’s shoulder at Amelia. “We need people’s help to get back into the Liberty building because we want to welcome people into our community, our home, for many more years to come.”
My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure the people watching the news would be able to hear it, but there were no more words whizzing around inside my head—I’d gotten all of them out.
“Liberty Arts Center, folks,” Cameron said. “Sounds like a truly special place. If you’d like to help them out, visit the Dream Together link on your screen. You can also find the link on our website.” Cameron waited for a nod from Tiger and then lowered his mic, officially ending the recording.
“Gabby, that was great!” Teagan said, while Red slapped me on the back.
“Truly great, cuz. Truly great.”
Cameron told us what time to tune in later. We thanked him, and then it was just me, Red, Teagan, and Amelia, standing in the sun. If Liberty was a family, these were my brothers and sisters. We’d pulled off our plan to make things right at Liberty, and done it all on our own. Tonight, the whole city would see what we’d done on the news. Now it was time to tell Mama and Daddy.
Mama! Daddy!” I raced into the house and found them at the kitchen table. Red was right behind me, another round of adrenaline pumping through our veins. We had checked the Dream Together page on the ride home and it was already up fifteen hundred dollars from this morning.
“Goodness, Gabby,” Mama said, “you’d think the house was on fire the way you’re running. How was the picnic?”
I grabbed a glass of water and chugged some down. “It wasn’t a picnic.”
“What?” Daddy and Mama said together.
“Hey, Aunt Tina,” Red said. “When was the last time you checked the Dream Together numbers?”
“A couple hours ago. Why?”
“Maybe you should check them again,” I said, hopping up and down.
“You two are acting like a couple of bugged PCs,” Daddy said. “What do you mean it wasn’t a picnic?”
“Will you just ch-ch-check the Dream Together page?” I asked. I pushed Mama’s laptop over so it was within their reach.
“Okay, okay,” Mama said. She clicked on the bookmarked link. Daddy leaned in, and Red and I crowded over their shoulders.
One second ticked by, then two. The total was up about seventeen hundred dollars from this morning now. I held my breath as we waited for Mama and Daddy to react.
“I don’t underst—” Mama started.
“I’m assuming this has something to do with your not-a-picnic?” Daddy said. “Spill.”
I thought he’d never ask. Red and I told them how Amelia and I filmed the video tutorial on their “date night,” and about the secret rehearsal on Thursday. We told them about the performance and finally about Cameron Fischer and the CBS News.
“Awesome, right?” Red said proudly, when we’d finished. He jutted out his chest.
“Actually, not so awesome.” Mama closed her laptop and looked at Red and me. Red deflated. “I wish you hadn’t kept this from us.”
“We wanted to surprise you,” I said.
“And I understand that, but you all took on so much, even after I told the two of you multiple times to—” She shook her head again. “So much, it’s unbelievable. I know you both love the center, but we could have helped you. You shouldn’t have had to bear this much responsibility on your own.”
“But why not?” I asked, with a little more attitude in my voice than I’d intended. “W-W-We messed things up at the center so we sh-sh-should be the ones to fix it. We’ve been trying to fix it all summer, but every time we’d shared an idea you all stepped in and only kind of let us help, and—”
“Hold up,” Daddy said, raising a hand to stop me from talking. “You think you guys caused the outage?”
I tried to explain, but my words were being stubborn. This wasn’t going at all how I’d planned. We were supposed to come home and Mama and Daddy would see the donations page and we’d hug and maybe get some ice cream.
Red took over. He told them how he’d turned on all the stage lights and how Teagan and I were trying to show our digital graphics when the power went out.
“And then I heard Ms. Santos talking in the hallway that first day,” I said. “I heard her say ‘fault.’ It was us. I-I-It was our fault.”
“So let me get this straight,” said Daddy, looking at Mama and then back at us. “You think the two of you and Teagan overloaded the circuit breaker and caused the power to go out?”
Red and I nodded.
Daddy was quiet a moment, then shifted in his chair and looked straight into my eyes. “That may be what happened—it’s likely, actually—but the center is old. Really old.” He looked at Red, then back at me. “The wiring was a disaster waiting to happen. It was most definitely not your fault.”
“But what about Ms. Santos?”
“I’m not sure,” Mama said, “since I didn’t hear it. But I’m guessing she was talking about there being a fault in the electrical system.”
Oh.
Red had an expression on his face that said What now? There were a million words buzzing in my brain. I pulled out a chair and tried to pin them down. If the outage wasn’t our fault, would we have been so determined to find a way to fix things?
Mama broke the silence. “I’m sorry you thought this was all your fault,” she said. “I’m impressed you tried to take responsibility for your actions, though. That shows great maturity.”
Red and I gave a small nod and said thanks. That’s what we’d been trying to do all summer. Maybe we should have told Mama and Daddy we’d caused the outage. Maybe they’d have given us more responsibility from the get-go to make things right.
Daddy sighed. “We’re sorry we doubted you when you expressed your ideas. And that we took over from time to time. It’s frustrating to not get to act when you believe in something so strongly. That’s what’s been so scary about this whole thing for us—for Mama especially. If Liberty closes, then what?”
“But we’re not going to close, are we?” I asked.
“With what you two and all your friends did today, hopefully not,” Mama said. “No matter how much money the donations page gets, you did a lot of good today. We’re proud of you. You should be proud of yourselves.”
I was.
A few hours later, the four of us sat down in front of the TV, Mama and Daddy on the couch, me and Red on the floor. We munched on a bowl of popcorn while the CBS News anchors did their opening segment and then the weather, until the anchor finally said, “And now for a story about a very special building in our city.”
Some old photos of the Liberty Theater came on the screen as a voiceover gave a brief history of the building, including how Liberty Arts Center had been there for the last seventeen years. Finally, they cut to some footage of the performance.
“You choreographed that?” Mama said.
“With help from Amelia,” I replied.
“And me,” Red teased. “And Maya.”
“We’re here today with the girls and boys of the Liberty Arts Center,” Cameron said. Goose bumps prickled my arms.
Daddy clicked the TV off after the Dream Together link appeared. I had seen myself on the news, but it was still a little hard to believe that I’d done an interview that thous
ands of people had seen. I twisted around. Mama’s eyes were shiny.
“I don’t know what to say, Gabby,” she finally said. “I hardly recognize you these days. It’s like you’re a different person.” She gave me the biggest smile I’d seen from her in weeks. “You’ve found your voice.”
I’ve found my voice. “I guess that’s the sunshine to come out of these clouds, or whatever,” I said.
“A saying worthy of Mr. Harmon,” Daddy declared. He stood and pulled Red and me on the couch on either side of him. Mama joined us, sitting down beside me and opening her laptop to the Dream Together page again.
She rested her head on top of mine, and the four of us sat like that for a good long while, watching the Dream Together donations go up and up and up, our spirits soaring with them.
Sunday morning, I woke up to Mama yelling for us all to come to the living room. I ran blurry-eyed down the stairs, Maya right behind me. Poor Maya. She thought I was on my way to crack open a can of cat food.
Mama was on her phone, saying, “Thank you so much,” over and over again. When she hung up, she turned to us, her eyes wide with a combination of disbelief and sheer happiness. “Just got off the phone with Amelia’s donor and … and—well, look!”
She gestured to her laptop on the coffee table. She had it open to the Dream Together page again.
I looked. Blinked. Had to rub my eyes and look again.
“We met our goal for materials!” Red said, his voice still raspy with sleep.
“We didn’t just meet it,” Daddy said. “We surpassed it by a few thousand dollars.”
“And a few thousand more,” Mama added, her voice shaking. “Amelia’s donor is going to give me an additional check to go directly into future programs when we’re back up and running.”
The switch leapers were back in my stomach, only now they were leaping on a trampoline.
Mama clasped her hands and pressed them to her chest. She wouldn’t take her eyes off of the Dream Together page, as though looking away would make all the donations disappear. “I can’t believe it. I never thought we’d—”
Gabriela (American Girl Page 10